


Cupid

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band), Valentine (2001)
Genre: And whatever the fuck there is that sounds bloody, Horror, Killing, M/M, Secret Killer, Slasher AU, Slashing, Stabbing, Thriller, multiple character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1957878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A boy was bullied. A boy grew up to be handsome and likeable. A boy starts seeking revenge. A boy will ruin a gathering. A boy will grow a liking towards another boy. A boy will lie. And then a boy will succeed.</p><p>aka a one time big time slasher au that involves louis and harry; the one where they'd see each other again in a party, the one where there will be killings, the one where all the bullies in one's life will be buried 6 feet underneath the depths of hell, all because one has sought revenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cupid

**Author's Note:**

> So hey! If you've already watched that certain movie back from 2001 called 'Valentine', then you must already know the drill from here. Try guessing who could be the killer in the midst of the story. Hope you enjoy :~) (spare me, tho, i probably suck at this - very muccccch suck at this)

**13** **YEARS** **AGO**

 

 

 

_Thirteen years ago, in a school dance, a kid was badly beaten, stepped on, laughed at, and bullied._

_All the kid wanted was to dance. He asked each and every girl he bumped into if they wanted to dance. There were answers, sure. But they were all No's; only one boy saying yes, but the lone kid only thought that that would be ridiculous, considering they were both boys. So the kid carried on with asking the girls, adjusting his eyeglasses perched_ _on_ _his nose._

_Minutes later, there was still no Yes._

_And until there was one. She smiled at him, sighed, like she had no other option because she was fat, and then took his hand._

_But they didn't dance. They only made out._

_It was going great then, though they were both bad kissers, but that was until some of the kids noticed and started to laugh... that they pulled apart._

_And then the girl lied to them once they'd started chanting hurtful names at them. She—the girl he made out with—told the kids, "He attacked me," so she would come off as a victim and not—definitely not—into the nerd kid she was just making out with seconds ago._

_The bullied kid, shaking his head frantically, backing away for he was being framed, his nose bleeding simultaneously, had protested, "No! I didn't! We—we were just—" And he was cut off when they poured some juice punch down from the top of his head to his body, soaking him wet all over, and then started stripping him out of his clothes, just leaving him with his underwear, flagging him all around the room like he was trash, unworthy, a toy._

_It was a terrible memory. The kid had wanted to die. The kid didn't die._

_The kid wanted to kill._

*

 

 

 

**PRESENT**

 

 

It's their last day in Uni, and everyone's going crazy. Some are going to parties, some just staying at home, and some are packing up their belongings, much like some _certain_ human beings. Which, these two; Zayn and Louis are both at their flat, gathering their belongings and are singing to a Rhianna song on the radio, while organizing their stuffs to put altogether in multiple sorted boxes, when a call from Niall comes through. Zayn answers it.

Louis tries to listen, but he's just too caught up with all these belts of lyrics by Rhianna, that he doesn't bother no more. And until Zayn hangs up.

"What's up?" Louis asks, aiming a pair of balled socks towards a box labeled as _Lou's babes,_ tossing it right over. He scores two points. "What did Nialler say?"

Flopping down on the couch and turning down the volume of the speakers, in which Louis protests at, but Zayn only rolls his eyes at in return, Zayn fixes Louis a look, simply says, "We're going out tonight."

Louis stares at Zayn like he's grown another pair of head. "You're kidding, right?" Louis says eventually, sardonically, laughing humorlessly. "Because I swear to fucking God, Zaynie—"

"No, Lou, _come on_ ," Zayn whines, shaking his head and standing up. "Just—come on. Just one time. Just this one time."

Louis laughs again. "Dude," he drawls sarcastically, "Don't tell me, you mean with the—"

"Yes!" Zayn exclaims, mildly frustrated, because the thing is, Louis never goes out to parties where the people at Uni go to. He just wouldn't. And Zayn knows why. It's because Louis would rather study than to get along with those whom he call 'drunkards'. He's always been shy around them. Zayn hates that about him. "With the people in our Uni, Louis, _yes_. Everyone's going, see. At Taylor's, Niall said. So I think we should too."

Sitting down slowly, Louis stares at the ground and asks quietly, "Everyone?"

Knowing he's winning this persuading now, Zayn confirms that with a quirking up mouth, almost breaking into a grin. "Yes. _Everyone_."

Hearing that affirmation, Louis' hands are suddenly shaking, his forehead sweating, his nose flaring. "Okay," he says.

"Okay?" Zayn makes sure if he's heard correctly.

And Louis says, finality in his voice. "Yeah."

Twenty minutes later, Zayn is waiting for Louis to come out of his room, and when he finally does, he's looking thrice as attractive as he did twenty minutes ago. Zayn wolf-whistles, spanking his bum when he passes him by. Louis chuckles, flipping Zayn off. And then they drive to Taylor's.

*

The moon is high up in the sky. No stars tonight, just clouds and flying birds.

He can hear the party buzzing in his head. He can almost see clearly each and everyone's faces just from the outside. The strobe lights are blinding, streaks coming through, the music is loud, everybody's nearly drunk, since the party's stared hours ago, and yet he can still cope quite well. And see, he's not here to party. He's here because this is where all his enemies are; his bullies from thirteen years ago. And he's here for only one reason.

It's to kill them one by one, painfully, make them pay for what they did many years ago, for what's gone ruined, for what they did to him that he'll never forget.

He'll make them rot in hell with him.

*

"So, here we are," Zayn announces, unbuckling his seat belt. Louis next to him does that too, is already looking out on the crowd coming in and out of the house, drinks in their hands.

As they hop off Zayn's car and stand before the massive house, Louis puts both his hands on each his hip and exhales, studying the white house in front of them. "Taylor's mansion, eh?" he mutters, amusement in his voice.

"Yep," Zayn says, popping the _p_. "Massive, innit. Daughter of the principal and all."

 _Cool_ , Louis thinks.

"Well," Louis says, looking at Zayn. "Let's party then!" he chirps, grinning.

"Aye! That's the spirit!" Zayn chimes as he claps, laughing. The two strides in, enthusiasm flooding them.

*

He stands amongst the crowd, looking around him, looking up in the mezzanine, looking towards the kitchen. He's looking for his preys—searching for those familiar faces he's dealt with thirteen years ago—aiming for those shitheads so they'd die even before this night ends.

Some drunken boys and girls are nudging pass him from where he stands, some laughing centimeters away from him, annoying him to no end, and some are asking him if he wants to dance with them, says he looks stunning tonight.

And really, he wants to. Wants to dance with them.

But not tonight. Not if he sees someone he really wants to dance with, one that's worth it. Not if he's planning to kill that girl right there—that blonde girl, the one who's laughing with her stupid friends, the one who's wearing a blue dress. That one who's holding a red drink in her petite hand, that one who had rejected his invitation of a dance years ago, that one whose this guy right here is itching to choke in the neck and then later on lay her on her deathbed.

He thinks he needs some drink. The vengeance can wait.

*

"Wow, man. This place sure is jam packed!" Louis gushes, looking around him, as he stays close to Zayn, the two of them moving through the crowd.

"I know, man," Zayn agrees, looking around the crowded place as well, bobbing his head up and down to the loud buzzing music.

Looking to his right, Louis sees colorful drinks by the bar, making him grin big. "Here, Z. Let's get something to boost us up."

"Great idea."

*

As he leans against something, he focuses once again on the mingling bodies scattered around the room. He sees girls grinding against girls, giggling, laughing and throwing their heads back, exposing their necks. He wants to slit those exposed throats and necks. He won't though—those girls aren't his target. Up in the ceiling, he sees chandelier hanging and shining. He thinks they're beautiful. He hates beautiful.

But then he glances sideways, and what he sees next to him, is beautiful. He swallows hard. He shouldn't really be feeling this way tonight, but.

"Fuck, I want him."

*

"Hey, Lou," Zayn says loudly to be heard through the music, holding Louis' arm to have his attention.

"Yes, babe?" Louis asks, looking at Zayn.

"I saw Liam," he says, is already wearing this smirk across his pretty face, making Louis roll his eyes, but rather fondly.

"Okay, you go ahead, you little shit," says Louis eventually, dismissively, "go shag him or whatever."

Zayn laughs, sauntering away and leaving Louis on his own by the bar.

As Louis bobs his head to some Katy Perry's song, someone speaks beside him. "Hi," it says, voice deep, almost like throaty, pulling Louis' full attention.

When Louis glances at the stranger next to him, Louis has to double-take because _fuck_. "Uh, oh, hi," stutters Louis, cheeks growing hot by the beat.

"Is this space taken?" The beautiful stranger asks.

"No...actually. No." Louis stares at the stranger; he has soft looking brown curls, has luscious plump lips, nose pointy, jawline sharp at the edges, and eyes so pretty, Louis would like to stare at them for the rest of his entity. Louis' never seen such beauty.

Breaking into a breathtaking smile, the stranger offers a hand for him to shake. "Sorry, forgot to introduce myself. 'M Harry by the way. And you are?"

Heart stuck on his throat, Louis clears it and tells his mind to focus. "Oh, uhm. Uhm—I'm Louis," he finally manages, shaking the stranger's—or Harry's hand. It's soft, Harry's palm, Louis feels. Sure, it's slightly calloused, but it's still soft. And warm. And massive. Louis retrieves his hand. "Well, I... Are you enjoying the party, huh, Harry?" He opts for a conversation.

Humming, Harry leans against the marbled bar behind them and sips on his beer before answering Louis' question. "Nah," he says, or more like drawls, scoffing, "Don't you think this party sucks? Plus, I don't like the owner of this place. She's nuts. Screws off of her brain. People say she's quirky and smart, that's why they like her and she's popular, but to me she's nothing but a basic bimbo."

Louis chokes out a laugh at this. " _Wow_ ," he muses, eyes bright even under the translucency of the dancing lights. "You don't hate Taylor Swift much, eh, mate?"

Laughing softly, Harry shakes his head as he licks his lips, facing Louis completely, and then putting down his drink. "Would you have this dance with me?" he asks, ignoring Louis' rhetorical question, as he flashes Louis a very beautiful smile.

And really, Louis' only human. Harry's the most attractive guy he's seen in his life. Only the stupid people would say no to a dance with Harry. "Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

"Let's go then."

Taking Harry's yet again offered hand, Louis gets lift up off the ground in just a tad inch, making him let out a soft gasp and clinging onto Harry's broad shoulders suddenly. "Oh, you're strong," he breathes out.

Harry suppresses soft chuckles, doing things to Louis' stomach—fireworks perhaps—as he wraps an arm around Louis' waists, leading him to the dance floor. As they stand close to each other, despite the song isn't so much as slow, they dance like it is anyway. And in this moment, they're feeling the intimacy of it all. Louis closes his eyes, sighs, and leans his temple against Harry's shoulder, with Harry's muscly arms snaked around his waists, swaying them both steadily, gently, carefully.

Louis can hear Harry's ragged breathing, his heartbeat, and until the moment goes to being serene to eventually ruined. Just because some girl spills her drink onto Harry's back, breaking them apart from dancing.

" _Holy shit_ ," the girl slurs, "I'm sorry! Oh, holy fuck."

Harry sighs, letting go of Louis, as he cranes his neck to see just who the hell spilt their drink on his coat.

It's Paige Reifler from their Uni, he recognizes. She's patting Harry's back where she's soaked him, and that pisses Harry even more, Louis notices. So, "Hey, stop," he tells her.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to. Just—," she pauses to rub at her temples, looking annoyed as well as sloshed. "Just—I'm outta here. Whatever." And she's gone, probably to throw up somewhere, and Harry and Louis couldn't care less.

"What a klutz." Louis hears Harry mutter darkly.

*

He's standing close to the restrooms. He looks from his left to his right; no one seems coming. Back on what's in front of him; _Ladies_ and _Gentlemen_ , the signs at either doors say. He steps inside the Ladies room.

Wearing his Cupid—Cherub—mask, he strolls slowly along the surprisingly empty comfort room and puts a hand in one of his coat pockets. He checks each and one of the cubicles; no one's inside. But that's until he hears someone puking from inside the farthest cubicle. And he knows—that's his kill.

Retrieving his hand, that now is gripping a massive knife, more like a katana, he kicks the cubicle open, only to reveal a blonde girl crouched down, wiping her face. And she screams as soon as she sees him.

And those screams don't last long enough for the other party goers to hear, because then he's slashed her throat within a blink of an eye with the knife he has, his other freehand holding her by her hair and pulling at it to hurt, her slit throat leaking with thick sticky dark red blood, her eyes as wide as golf balls, her mouth formed into a disoriented _O_ and gushing out with streaks of blood as well. He thinks she looks fucking ugly dying like this and the thought makes him smile evilly.

"That's for fucking with my life in sixth grade, you good for nothing slut," he tells her corpse.

Leaving her seated dead on the toilet, he checks Paige Reifler off of his list.

And his nose bleeds as he walks off the crime he's created, taking off his mask.

*

Knocking their knees under the bar as they're once again along it, Louis slides a drink towards Harry and then motions for a toast. Harry smiles a little and grants it. They drink in sync.

"Ah, that's good," Louis exhales, slumping his glass against the marble.

Harry spins his stool so he's facing Louis, and then taking him by the back of his head, he leans in and captures Louis' lips with his. Louis' eyes go big at this, but as soon as Harry's moving his mouth against his and is tugging his tongue on his bottom lip, Louis then hums in appreciation and kisses Harry back. He feels Harry smirk against their lips.

They make out wildly then, wetly and soundly and sloppily, with Harry's fingers tangled on Louis' hair, Louis' hands gripping on Harry's hips, earning himself a sweet moan from Harry.

Minutes later, they pull apart. And then some girl is tugging on Harry's arm to have his attention. "Hey, handsome," she says, seductive, winking at Harry.

Louis' eyebrows cock up at this.

"Caroline?" Harry asks in confusion.

"Hi, baby," she says, clearly flirting. Louis' jaw drops.

"Wait, whoa, girl," Louis finally says, pulling Harry's other arm, "Excuse me, but. Are you hitting on my date? Did you really just—"

"Oh, hush, whoever—whoever you are," Caroline snaps, huffing. "Who are you anyway?" She's drunk, Louis knows, but this is just tad rude. And her drunkenness is no excuse for rudeness.

Sighing loudly, like he's close to being done, Harry jerks his arm off of Caroline's grip and faces Louis again; and just like any guy who's into someone would do, Harry cups Louis' face and pulls him in for another round of snogging. Louis' more than smug about it as he savors Harry's sweet mouth in front of Caroline Flack.

 _And...the bitch has gone_ , Harry thinks to himself.

*

He sees her storming away from the crowd of dancing people, coming inside on one of the many rooms along the hallways, and then stepping out of it minutes later, is now wearing some black bikinis with a bottle of champagne and a wineglass in her hands, seemingly aiming to go to where the pool is.

Taylor Swift's house has no pool.

He follows her sneakily then.

To know where she's heading. To know where will be the very last place she'll step a foot on.

After a while, he's finally realized she's aimed for some secret room where a Jacuzzi was set up, and he thinks _yes_. This is brilliant. Just fucking brilliant. A perfect place to take yet another life; check someone off his list.

He watches her from the outside as she dips under the moving steamy water, drinks some champagne, and then settles right back to enjoy the Jacuzzi. And then that's his cue.

Stepping inside the room, very much quietly, he wears his mask and rounds the room without a sound. She doesn't seem to feel his presence, hear no sound, hear someone break in, none. He takes that chance to come closer while her back is on him.

And then she moves, glancing back. He's not there. Looking back on her facial expression, he knows she's panicking, like in the movies, knowing someone must be watching her. He smiles behind his mask, because damn right, she's right about that. Caroline Flack isn't so dumb after all.

"Who's there?" She calls to no one in particular, looking around. "Just fucking come out now, whoever the fuck you are!"

No answer. _He_ won't answer.

"Oh, stop fucking with me now!" She yells this time, frustrated and drunk and rather looking exhausted. Sighing exasperatedly, Caroline gets out of the water and starts to do a search for whoever's 'fucking around' with her. "Show yourself, you arsehole!"

She looks through the shrubs. There's no one there. "Fucking hell..."

Eventually, she gives up.

But then he's came closer. He stands behind her. Quiet. Dead quiet.

And until she turns around and sees someone in black coat, wearing a Cupid mask, emotionless. She screams at the top of her lungs, because _what_ _the_ _fuck_ , but no one hears. Carrying her, he throws her back into the water and then doesn't let her step out of it, quickly closing the lid of the Jacuzzi itself. Caroline on her back swims around it, tapping countless times againt the fiberglass, yelling, " _Help_! Help! _Someone, please_! Help!"

He smiles at his work, seeing Caroline trapped inside the Jacuzzi, just hopelessly crying for help and tapping the glass. Going in the back room, just calmly as he always is, he picks up a Drill and then goes back to where he's left her. He plugs it on the socket as soon as he's came back. And then Caroline's face twists into something pure horror.

"Don't, _oh my God_ , please!"

He doesn't give a shit. He switches on the Drill and then attacks the lid with it—at the right places, aiming for her skin, her parts, her body. Caroline ducks and dodges it, swimming in circles and crying. "No! Please! _Help_!"

He continues on, drilling the glass again and again and again and—until he's hit her right on her arm, blood streaming out of her skin, making her hold onto her wound and sink underwater.

But she's still not dead though, so he opens the lid and then, with a last, "Goodbye, bitch," he throws the working Drill onto the water, killing Caroline with it, electrifying her entire body.

He leaves the scene yet again, calmly still, checking another soul off of his list.

And then his nose is bleeding.

*

Louis laughs at what Harry's saying, shaking his head and wiping his sweats away. "Oh, God, that's ace, Hazza."

" _Hazza_ ," Harry repeats, shooting Louis a skeptical look, like he's never been called that kinda name. "Oh, so you're giving me pet names now?"

Louis blushes at this, halts from laughing. "I guess, I am?" he asks it more than he says it, going self-conscious with the way Harry's looking at him. It's a dark look, that's why, slightly scary even, sending chills to his skin. It's a good scary though, he tells himself, like he's feeling exhilarated by it—aroused. And suddenly, he wants Harry to fuck him. He continues though, sounding more awkward this time, "Uhm, is it not okay to, like, call you names or something...?"

Harry shakes his head, his curls bouncing along it, putting a hand under his chin. He stares at Louis like Louis' some kind of a masterpiece amongst a gallery, making Louis feel even more turned on. Louis bites on his lip. "It's fine, Louis. But from now on, I'm calling you Lou. That okay?"

Breaking into a soft smile, Louis nods his head slyly, shy. "Okay, Haz."

After a beat, Louis and Harry are back on flirting back and forth again. Louis' suddenly thankful that Zayn brought him here.

*

Another hour has passed. He tells his company for the night that he's just using the loo, but he knows to himself that he's up to something gruesome.

All because he saw Nick Grimshaw went inside the loo.

He follows him inside.

"Good night, eh?" Nick slurs as soon as he steps right in. Nick's peeing on one of the stalls and he has his back on him. He isn't able to see his face. Saved.

"Certainly is," he responds curtly anyway.

Going inside on one of the cubicles, he wears his mask, takes a simple weapon, and then steps right out. Nick is still peeing and still all alone. He waits for him to turn around.

By the time Nick does, finally, he full on force throws a tissue dispenser towards the mirror, willing it to break into a hundred pieces. It does. Nick looks at him in pure horror at that, startled, is seemingly pulled back to soberness. "What the _fu_ —" And he's cut off, just like that, when he grabs on his head and drags him towards the pointy shards of mirrors, pointing his throat exactly to where some sharp edges are directed upwards. "What—what are you—no! _No_! No! _Please, no_!" Nick cries out, tears already streaming down his face, looking so ugly in this guy's eyes.

Mercilessly, he smirks and drags Nick by the back of his head downwards. The sharp edges of the broken mirrors stick and stab on his throat, choking him to death, thick and red blood spurting off of his gaping mouth.

He leaves the scene as he wipes the blood that's trickled down from his own nose, checking Nick Grimshaw off of his list.

*

From afar, Louis can see Harry chatting with Kendall. And he thinks that can't be.

So Louis goes to where Harry is, hugging him from behind. Harry stiffens at the contact, but when he sees it's just Louis, he immediately relaxes. "Hey," Louis says softly, kissing along his nape. "I just went to the loo and then here you are, chatting someone else..."

Harry sighs softly, taking Louis' arms from around his torso, and then facing him, their chests flushed. He ducks down and kisses Louis, totally abandoning Kendall now, leaving her no other choice but to walk away. "Well, how was your travel to the loo then?"

Louis shrugs, sighs as though he's disappointed. "Well, it's closed. I don't know why."

"I see," Harry says quietly, smiling lopsidedly. "That's alright, babe. I think Kendall—"

"Kendall," Louis mocks, whipping around to walk away, " _Kendall, Kendall, Kendall_ —"

But Harry pulls him back by his wrist, making him squeal. Their chests bump as he gets pulled back around and that makes them laugh. "You jealous sod!" Harry accuses playfully, quite amused, laughing with his green eyes bright and cheeks red. "What I was meant to say, was that she told me that there's about three bathrooms in this house! Nothing more, baby. I just used one of them a while ago actually. So there. Go use the loo then."

Louis giggles at this, nodding his head. "Alrighty then. Don't go anywhere, okay? I'll just—go pee or some shit."

Harry smiles at him as he starts to walk backwards. "Okay, babe. Don't hurt yourself."

"Mhm, Harold. Don't mingle around while I'm gone," jokes Louis. Harry laughs, dimples popping out. Louis thinks he really is fucking beautiful.

*

From where he stands, he can see the one and only Taylor Swift talking to someone through her phone. She's standing outside of her room, there at the balcony, holding onto the railings right by the edge.

He wants her dead.

But he has to wait until she's done talking to some possible witness over the phone. So he does.

"Yeah, I know, mum. Jesus. What—grounded? Me? What are you—I'm not a kid anymore, jeez, mum! No. No, it's just a small... get together! Nothing big, _really_. This—no. It's _not_ a party—ugh. Fine!" She clicks her phone dead.

Taylor kicks her heels on the concrete ground and grips tightly on the railings, groaning in annoyance because of her mum, probably. He doesn't know, doesn't care. He's here to finish her.

He wears his mask. Moving close, he carefully slides the sliding door open, and then—Taylor quickly feels him, so she spins around. But then he slams the door shut to mute out her screams, because she is. Taylor is already screaming, scared because of how creepy his Cupid mask looks. He doesn't give a shit. It _is_ creepy. It's meant to be creepy.

"What are you? Who are you?" Taylor asks accusingly, backing away, her back against the railings. Railings. Perfect, he thinks. "Don't go near me or—or I'll call the police!"

"Funny that." He scoffs. "You'll be dead before those idiots could come down here."

Taylor looks at him in horror, eyes wide. And then she starts to scream. "Help! _Someone_! Help me!"

"Scream all you want, Taylor," he says coolly, tone of his voice never giving away anything, "It doesn't even matter if someone would hear you or not."

"What are you saying? Who are you and what do you want?" Taylor cries some more, frantic, sobbing now.

"You know me, Taylor. You just wouldn't stick it to your stupid head, because you're that ugly at heart and stupid."

"W-what... I don't know what you're talking about," Taylor weeps, eyes wide as he pulls out a dagger.

He steps closer. "You do. You do know, you fucking bitch. You're nothing but a manipulative, self-centered whore."

Taylor sobs, backs away more. "Please... please... don't..."

Suppressing a one last smile, he pushes her off of the balcony railings, Taylor falling down with a loud, " _Ahhhh_!" with her head first, and then breaking her neck and legs and hips once she's collided to the ground. It's a 20 feet high fall. She wouldn't have survived, he knows.

Peering over, he stares down on her body lying lifeless on the ground, formed into an awkward position, bent and limp, her eyes open and mouth as well, leaking out with sticky red blood.

He checks Taylor Swift off of his list as second to the last, his nosebleed once again present.

*

Someone screams from inside the Gents room where Louis' said has been closed down. That startles everybody and has them going there to look and gossip.

The power shuts down, the music zoning out, the strobe lights flicked off.

"What's happening?" People have been asking.

Harry looks around the place for Louis. It's turned out he hasn't yet came back from going to the loo. Harry's getting worried, because what the actual fuck, everyone's in hysteric.

"Hey, man," someone says behind Harry all the sudden, tapping his back. He turns around only to see a guy with jet black hair, one that's up in a quiff, prominent jawline, and hazel eyes looking pretty even through the dark.

"I'm Zayn. Lou's flat mate and best friend. I saw you two a while ago dancing. Where is he now?"

And oh. "Oh, uhm. I don't actually know. He told me he's going to use the loo. He still hasn't came back."

" _Fuck_ ," Zayn swears, looking around the place frantically. "We have to go find him! Everybody's freaking out about dead bodies all around this fucking place! Lou could be—"

"No," Harry cuts in, voice impossibly calm despite what's happening. "He can't be one of those bodies, no."

Another round of screams erupt. Harry's heartbeat races against his chest. This is serious.

Zayn's breathing goes ragged too, looking so stressed and dreadful. "We gotta find him, mate."

*

He knows everyone's finally noticed the killings that's been going on for hours now. _The oblivious idiots_ , he thinks.

Everyone's practically freaking out, running away from the closed party itself, running for their lives. He laughs to himself, feeling accomplished.

Because the thing is, he isn't worried one bit. No one will know it was him. He's too charming now to be a suspect. Unlike thirteen years ago, he now is extremely gorgeous. Unlike thirteen years ago, he now is irresistible. And unlike thirteen years ago, he now is attractive that you won't even know he's killed as many.

He isn't going to no jail for avenging himself. That would be a big joke.

He thinks he needs someone to replace him for it. So there will.

*

Harry and Zayn look around the place. And at each room they step in, they happen to see corpses.

At first it's Nick and his throat slit, head twisted, mouth agape. Zayn throws up.

The second one, it's Taylor and her awkwardly bent body, parts of it pointed into various directions, her lifeless pale eyes wide open. Harry and Zayn can't believe their eyes.

The third one, they see Caroline's toasted and floating body trapped inside a Jacuzzi. It's Harry's turn to puke out whatever's left in his digestion, because fuck.

The last corpse they see is of Paige, throat slashed, her limp body seated on a bloody cubicle. At this point, Zayn can't take it.

"Wait, Zayn! Where are you going?" Harry calls after him as he stumbles away from everything. "Louis! We have to find him!"

Zayn doesn't answer, is just crying, as he continuously gets away.

"Fuck," Harry curses as he's left alone in this massive emptied of people house.

Just then, " _Harry, watch out_!"

He whips around and startles to see a body in some big black coat, is wearing some creepy Cupid mask, tripping it's way forwards as though it has been pushed—and until it falls off the stairs and lands nearby Harry, who now has fallen to sit by the floor, scared and tearing up. He has tears streaming down his face as he side eyes the culprit—this one that's wearing some Cupid mask, this one who's lying on the ground close to him.

Harry knows it's the killer around here; it's the one who killed Paige Reifler, Taylor Swift, Caroline Flack, and Nick Grimshaw. Some people he's familiar with. Those people who had been his bullies back in the days; weak kids' bullies. It's in general.

Harry doesn't care about them, but he doesn't want to die, too, himself.

"Louis," Harry whispers, looking up at Louis with wide green eyes, scared, panicky. "Lou..."

Louis' carefully going down the stairs, holding a gun in his right hand, cautious with his movements. His gaze is averting back and forth from Harry and the person in a mask, seemingly about to shoot just whenever the person in a mask would move even just a single fraction.

"S-stay where you are, Harry. D-don't move," Louis stutters out, is close to the ground now.

And—and the person in the Cupid mask moves. Louis doesn't hesitate and shoots it. Five times he does, pulling the trigger again and again and again. Harry closes his eyes amidst it, tears rolling down his cheeks.

The person in the Cupid mask dies, loses it's heaving chest to nowhere else. It's breathing has stopped. Louis rushes over to where Harry is seated scared and hugs him.

"Oh, Lou," Harry sobs in his chest. Louis holds him tight and close, stroking the back of his head, repeatedly saying, _it's over now, baby. Sshh. It's okay_.

Pulling away after a few moments, Harry looks at the direction of the killer. And Louis knows what he wants. Louis stands up and slowly kneels down over the killer's body. He reaches down, looking at Harry firsthand before anything else, and then focuses back. He unmasks the culprit.

Harry's eyes widened, gasps loudly and covers his mouth with his hands. "I—I don't—I don't understand."

Louis comes back to hug Harry again, his gaze focused on none other than Kendall Jenner, dead and wide-eyed and unmasked, bruises littering her face.

It's her after all.

*

As the night drags on, the stars finally present in the sky, the cops eventually arrive. Just like the usual, they arrive late. They arrive when everybody's dead.

Harry and Louis are both given a moment to settle their minds, are both seated by the living room. After this, they know they have to come with the cops and be interviewed.

That's okay with them.

"I can't...believe it's Kendall, Lou," Harry whispers, clinging onto Louis. "I was just... I was just talking to her and she seemed happy. I didn't know she could—she could do such thing—"

"Sshh, Hazza," Louis hushes him, pulling his head to lean against his chest. "It's over now, babe, don't worry. I can't quite believe it too, sure, but. But people can be crazy sometimes..."

Nodding his head in agreement, Harry nuzzles against Louis' neck and kisses him there, closing his eyes. Louis holds onto that feeling, closing his own eyes too, only to open them again, because—

His nose is bleeding again.

Louis doesn't dare wipe it.

**Author's Note:**

> YOU THOUGHT IT WAS HARRY.  
> I SAW YOU.  
> DON'T EVEN TRY TO DENY IT.  
> HA HA HA~
> 
> kudos and comments, perhaps? <3


End file.
